Padrone Di Caos: La Bataille Finale
by potterholic13
Summary: PG 13 just to be safe. only for minor cursing. nothing to bad. oh, and the sad stuff. Its a one shot about the final battle, i find it interesting. go on, give it a go, and review because your nice!


My one shot, which I actually am going to finish.

Padrone Di Caos: La Bataille Finale.

A/N's...

(This fiction is, in fac, in English.)

Don't come complaining to me that harry's self absorbed in this fiction. Honestly, I think he has a right to be.. And if you don't, don't give me constructive criticism on it because I am aware of the "problem".

Do not point out any OOC lines. Remember, two years have passed since his fifth year.

Don't bother yelling at me because you don't think its depressing enough, or if you think it's too depressing. This is my take on the emotions that would be felt if the character death in here actually happened.

Yes, there may be a teensy hint of harry/ginny shipping, but take it as you will. . I tried my best to be impartial..no ships.

Also, any character deaths are nothing personal, I just wanted to prove I could finish a story. And last for now,

**I would like to dedicate this story to two people: One is Kate (stop "awwwing", Cassidy, its scary.) And the other (stop _glaring_ at me, Kate,) is Scott. I dedicate it to Kate because I am, and to Scott in hopes of getting him off my back about the character death in here. I have not joined his league and I LOVE the character. I hope he realizes that.**

Go AWAY. Shut up. Go away. I want to see, hear, feel, fear, know nothing. My name is Harry James Potter, and my life sucks. Bugger off, before you die as well. You're not leaving? You want me to shout? It gets everyone else away. .

Oh, you want to know WHY I'm like ..this... go on, say it.. Depressed?

No, by all means, depressed is a light word for the state I'm in. You'd be cutting off the rest of the outside world as well, if you had a sodding prophecy hanging over your head... determining your future... What prophecy? Et's put it this way: I was brought fourth into miserable being to be a saviour. Everyone hates me, I hate everyone. Nice, sick balance if you ask me. WHY ME? I hate my bloody life. Decisions? Decisions! You have trouble making choices? I don't HAVE a choice. I MUST save the world's inhabitants undeserving skins from Lord EFFING Voldemort.

I'm not too pleased about al of this. Sure, I have friends.. Keep hanging around me and they'll get themselves blown up. They can't understand. No one could. I don't even have parents to talk to. They're DEAD. I've lived with muggles my entire life. INTOLERANT, ABUSIVE, PREJUDICE, BUYING, ABUSIVE, MUGGLES!

I may have gone crazy. I'm not quite sure.

Imagine having a future, though. Can you? I can't. Close your eyes and see your future wedding, your career, your children. All I get is this lovely picture of the Dark ord who's out for my blood.. Every single moment of my life is agonizing. It hurts. It feels like I'm being stalked by a dementor. I may have killed myself long ago if I didn't have a mission. How normal is it? To not have reached twenty, and already contemplating magical suicide? Damn it. Look at me! I'm pathetic. And young, to boot. There's no denying the fricken Dark Lord's power. It's phenomenal! HOW CAN I DO THIS?It's not fair... I probably killed a unicorn or two in a past life or something. How else would this happen? Besides lack of a better person...unluck of the draw, if you will.

Well, there's no use in moaning about it. My name is Harry Potter, aged 18, burdens too many to count. My name is Harry James Potter AND THE TIME TO COMPLAIN HAS ENDED. The time for Action is now. Today is the day that Darkness will either fall or triumph. . .let us hope it is the first.

**Harry James Potter**

Ron held back a sob as his best friend's last recorded memories were read aloud by Dumbedore. It was a glorious day for many. One of celebration of the hugest victory since the defeat of Grindewald. It was one week ago that Harry went and did the stupidest...bravest..greatest thing in anyone's memory.

Voldemort was in Hogsmeade. All of the towns occupants were either dead or taking cover in Hoqwarts. Hogwarts Castle could hardly be classified as a school anymore, it being more of a safe haven than anything else. Hermione and Ron joined the Order at 18, as soon as they were of age, nothing could stop them from getting right in on the action. Harry had joined at 16, but became a fully fledged field active member at 18.

Ginny had been saying for awhile that Harry couldn't bear it much longer– she could see it in those staggering emerald eyes. He had been deeply depressed since the death of his godfather, and hardly ever spoke, so no one really knew how deep the wounds ran. His state worsened as his companions started to fall around him. Alastor Moody, for one. Killed by Voldemort himself. The same met Sturgis Podmore, Mungdungus Fletcher, and Kingsley Shacklebolt.

Harry was very quiet, very angry, very quilty, and trained very hard. Thinking back on it, Ron knew he would have done better to keep Harry more company than he did.

Ron would have done anything to save Harry, as would any other Weasley, Hermione, Neville, or Luna. But once he saw Harry walk out the doors, it was already too late. Even Snape had tried to stop him, but to no avail. Harry kept pace in his stride.

According to Lucius Malfoy under the influence of veritiserum, "Potter waltzed right into out midst and started cursing like a mad man. Everything in sight.. Hexes, jinxes, curses, most unexpected. " Voldemort had apparently ordered them to "disapperate now." And you do not disobey a direct order from the Dark Lord, unless you are looking to considerably shorten your life span, or cease it completely.

Harry Potter appeared in the doorway of the Hog's Head Inn. After quickly taking in his opponents and surroundings, he fired spell after spell at random. Finally, "Out, my servants. Be gone. Disapperate Now." Voldemort ordered.

"Tom."

"Harry."

"You know why I've come, bastard."

"That I do, Potter, that I do. This is it then? You are prepared to die?"

"I have been awaiting death for a very long time, Tom. I am now ready to spill your blood."

"We shall see."

The two wizards faced each other, and in three seconds, they both shouted two words. "AVADA KEDAVRA!"

The beams were supposed to hit.. Connect, but obviously, Vodemort had other plans. Harry was confused for a second, but then it hit him. Dumbledore had warned him that this would happen.

"You. . . Your wand... it's a back up... a reserve.." he said in astonishment.

Voldemort chuckled cruelly. "Mmm, yes, I thought we'd have a _fair _fight this time." he replied, sending a casual cruciartis at Harry.

"Talk about fair." Harry snorted, while ducking the red jet of potential pain. "You're only the second most powerful wizard on Earth, THE darkest wizard, and I'm not yet out of my teens. Yes, the Dark Lord doth fight thy battles fairly." he pointed out sarcastically.

Voldemort narrowed his red snakelike eyes, aimed his wand, and. . . "Crucio!"

At the same time Harry fired a simple stunner. Both spells missed their targets.

_This won't work. I'll need something more powerful. "_**EXPECTRI BLINDUM!" **Harry shouted the modified version of the Patronus charm at Voldemort. The spell was simple, but powerful. It convertedhope into light magic. A really _bright_ from of light magic. To beat him, Harry knew, he'd have to something quite unexpected. Something completely random. But he could not. Before he had time to fire off one of Fred and George's latest pandemonium inducers, he was frozen stiff. In that time, Voldemort grabbed his chance. "Crucio".

Pain. Considerable Pain. But it was not as bad as it could have it been. Two things contributed to this. One, Harry trained with the Cruciartis every day for the past two years. Two, he had learned to exert all emotional distress into the physical pain the curse inflicted. Focusing, concentrating with every fiber of his being, Harry, to Voldemort's sheer horror, stood.

And to even further the effect, he grinned. But that wasn't the worst of it. Those damn green eyes. They didn't share that same look of desperation that the Dark Lord enjoyed so much. They didn't beg for the mercy that that silly girl Lily had once shown. The emerald eyes were practically emitting an aura of determination. Frightening.

"You won't live to kill another!" Harry bellowed.

Voldemort actually felt a deep, gut-wrenching emotion that he didn't recognize. . .

Fear.

Ol' snake face nearly dropped his wand.

Harry, however, could not muster up the power he needed to defeat Lord Voldemort. Yet. He knew if he had more motive he could do it. So, he ran over to "Plan G-I-Really-  
Hope-This-Works." In a swift swish of his wand, he summoned Fawkes, Dumbledore's Phoenix. It was a secret move that Dumbledore had taught him. If you simply made the wand movement, it would summon the phoenix and the sword of Godric Gryffindor. If you did it while saying "phoenix tears", the bird would know that someone needed some healing.

A beautiful bird with magnificent red and gold plumage appeared in a burst of heart-warming song. Fawkes was carrying the sword that Harry had wielded so very long ago. Harry feigned surprise at the swords sudden appearance, but the evil, arbitrary, crude 'lord' was not fooled.

Voldemort summoned his own tri-coloured sword. It was onyx, green, and gold. Harry noticed that it was rather longer, slightly curved, and possibly sharper.

"Let it begin" Vodemort said, before charging gracefully into battle.

Every time the swords hit together, there was a flash of white light. The tables at the Hogshead Inn were proving to be nothing but an inconvenience. This gave Harry an idea. Not only would apparating somewhere else make for a better dueling area, it would preserve the town and move the final battle away from anyone he cared about. (**A/N. Yeah, he can apparate at his age. ALSO, if only for my specific needs, you can apparate to any country that you're not separated from by a large body of water. Well, not directly, atleast.) **

"To the graveyard." Harry said.

Voldemort gave Harry a look of suspicion, but nodded. They apparated.

True, Harry would not prefer to be in the graveyard that marked the second worst night of his life. But something inside of him compelled him to go. He was hoping it was fortune finally showing up for her long awaited with Harry. A nasty feeling in the back of his mind contradicted this theory. That little voice was telling him that he was drawn here because it was the only place he had ever spoken to his parents. He hoped it was fortune, because if all went well, he'd not be seeing his parents tonight.

He met the red eyes of his mortal enemy. With the thought of his friends, he charged at his hated foe.

They met exactly where the cauldron that brought the most feared wizard of the age had once stood not that far back in memory. In a series of agile movements, the enemies seemed evenly matched. It became clear to both opponents that the other was exceptionally skilled with a sword.

As Harry dodged Tom's blade, he swung his own around and caught the side of the slytherin's leg. And here is where he made his mistake. He let his own guard down. For a split second only, because he thought that the Master of Chaos would pay some mind to his fiercely bleeding wound. And in that second, Harry was flung on the ground, pinned down by a sword. He had been disarmed of both his sword and wand.

"And now, my opponent falls." Voldemort said with mirth. "You were never really any match for me. It was just a matter of how much help you got.", he boasted, "And all of those people..Your mud-blood loving friends, believed you would be my downfall. The Dark is rising, Potter. You could not stop it. It was inevitable. You have failed them. They shall forever hate their...What is it you call yourself? 'Savior'? You have failed your friends. Your parents. Your world. . . How does that feel?"

Harry felt his eyes burn with suppressed tears. He averted his gaze. He stared at the only thing eye level. A wonderful sight. A pure white, unblemished, Lily. He took that as a sign. His parents were watching. His friends were counting on him. The world needed him.

'Death is but the next great adventure.'

Harry grinned as he looked up into the eyes of his arch enemy. Voldemort's blood red eyes had widened as he realized that they were enveloped in what was an increasingly larger white sphere. As he was about to escape, a clap of thunder and a streak of lightening occurred simultaneously. Before the realliaztion of what had happened hit him, Voldemort was dead. And after a few ragged breaths, Harry, knowing his mission was complete, fell dead.

The rain had fallen hard on the graveyard that night. It was pouring so hard that the bodies laying there seemed to be outlined with some luminous force.

Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Remus, and Dumbledore had apparated to the graveyard, in hopes of finding Harry. They had checked Hogsmeade and Privet Drive, both fruitless efforts. Though they half expected it, nothing could prepare them for seeing their best friend, and in one case, favourite pupil, best known for surviving anything, laying dead in the sopping grass.

"Is that...OH MY GOD!" Ginny shrieked.

Hermione's eyes went wider than a house-elf's. Ron's stomach seemed to have disappeared. Remus and Dumbledore were in disbelief. Ginny ran to the fallen body, the others on her heels. The scene was like one from a depressing old flick. All seemed to go in slow motion. The desperate running, tension in the air, the muddy ground which Ginny, in her haste, slipped on.

When they finally reached the hero, Ron slid through the mud on his knees, right over to his best friend. "Harry." he chuckled nervously. "Harry, mate! Move! Come on, your not _dead._ You can't be– you're the boy who..the boy-who-bloody-won't-die! GET UP!"

"Ron. . ."

"No! HE CAN'T BE DEAD! It's not s'posed to happen like that! What if V-V-Voldemort _tortured_ him? Look at his face! What did that bastard SAY to him! I'll–"

"Do nothing to Voldemort." Dumbledore finished.

"What gives YOU the right to–"

"RON!" Hermione yelled. She was pointing to a blurry figure laying a few metres away. Lupin was standing over it.

"Is that–" Ron started.

"Yes." Dumbledore said.

"He's–"

"Dead."

"And Harry did–"

"Must have."

Ron turned around to face his comrade. His adopted brother. "You idiot. What were you thinking?"

"He was thinking about the safety of the world."

"But that's not fair." Ron whimpered. He wasn't even bothering with holding back tears now. He couldn't if he wanted to. His memory was flipping back without his permission. It went from that first Hogwarts train ride, to the stone, to the chamber, to Sirius, to the graveyard, to Sirius' death, to the media, to death of friends. Harry's life was never fair. He was always doomed. He was so nice. He always put everyone else before himself. He gave everyone a chance. Even Zabini, a slytherin, who wanted to join Dumbledore's Army.

It was just beyond unfair. Ginny was beside herself. Hermione had lost her insides. Dumbledore sighed and spoke.

"We must bring them back. There will be a time to grieve."

Hermione snapped back to her senses. "I can't do it. I can't bring his body back, professor."

"I'll do it. No, do it with me, 'Mione. Gin, help too. And you, Remus. We'll do it together. We owe it to him."

Dumbledore nodded. "And I shall get Tom."

With a few sniffles, the quartet lifted the young martyr together. Dumbedore levitated Riddle.

They returned to Hogwarts.

Dumbledore told Snape to assemble all of the Castle's occupants and teachers into the great hall. Lupin called forth the D.A to the room of requirement.

Remus Lupin had an idea. He had gotten it from a book he had read in the Potter's library when he was 16.

_Could you extract a thought from a dead person? Well, they couldn't be dead for more than a day, or else the memories would fade. It's been around 10 hours. _He called fo the headmaster and told him the plan. Dumbledore had obliging brought his pensive directly to the hospital wing, where Harry lay for the last time. The theory of taking a dead person's thoughts had tested positive before, but not recently, as pensieves were hard to come by. So, naturally, it was unknown if there was any truth to it. And with veritaserum, who needed the victim's evidence anyway? Besodes, thoughts were not always reliable.

Lupin and Dumbledore arrived in the Hospital Wing to find a tall red head sitting at the bedside of Harry James Potter.

"Ron. . ."

The boy looked up. "He's still being stupid. Honestly, how long can he play dead? It's starting to scare me."

"Ron, he's not playing." Lupin whispered. Ron ignored him.

"Poppy.." the headmaster called. A nurse who was sobbing quietly to herself walked inside. "Give Ronald some of your lovely herbal sedative. He is not taking this well."

"Are any of us?" The nurse sniffed. She dragged Ron away all the same.

Lupin sat at the side of his best friend's son. He gazed at the spitting image of James. Except the eyes. But someone had shut his eyes, so the only feature reminiscent of the boy's mother was hidden. But all the same, Harry was probably much happier dead than he ever was when he was alive. Just thinking about it made the lycan shudder. _The unfairness of it all._

Dumbledore had taken out Harry's wand. A small team of Order members, consisting only of Tonks and the twins went back to the graveyard to retrieve Harry and Voldemort's wands, the sword of Gryffindor, and somehow not surprisingly, the sword of Slytherin.

The ancient headmaster touched the tip of Harry's wand to the young boy's temple.

He concentrated hard; it was not easy to pull out someone else's thoughts.. It took a great deal of power.

A weak silvery vapour was clinging to the wand. It was dropped into the pensieve. They watched. Images of people started appearing in the basin. There were the Weasley's, Hermione, The D.A, the order, Sirius, Remus, and a young couple that both recognized. They knew only to well that it was...

"Lily...James..he saw them...us..WE were his dying thoughts?" It was a rhetorical question, more like an exclamation. "That's it?"

"He's been gone over 10 hours. We were lucky to have gotten this much."

Lupin nodded.

Back in the Great Hall, Dumbledore was making a grand speech to all of it's occupants. He was very close to tears.

"What are you saying? You-know-who...is..dead?" An anonymous crowd member asked.

Dumbledore nodded resolutely.

The crowd member jumped. It was Corneilius Fudge. "BY JOVE! He's...gone? For good?"

Slowly, realization dawned. The crowd started to whoop and cheer, until someone asked "Who? Who killed him? And why's Dumbledore unhappy?"

The noise stopped. And anxious faces turned to Dumbledore.

"Unsurprisingly, it was Harry Potter, and–"

"Where is the Old Boy?"

"Harry, I'm afraid, died in the explosion he created to kill Voldemort." Dumbledore let that sink in. McGonagal woud have none of it. Snape led her out of the hall.

"His was the ultimate sacrifice. We shall never forget."

"Harry?" Someone asked as the door to the "Come-and-Go-Room" opened.

"No." Lupin replied sadly.

"Well, where's he got to? This spell is wicked complex."

Lupin explained the theory of what happened between Harry and Voldemort. No one was believing it. They were yelling at lupin for his "feeble joke". All were, barring Neville and Luna. They simply stared at their retired Defense teacher.

So there they were, standing outside on the seventh of August. They were on the Castle grounds. It was a breath taking sight. It was warm, not hot. Bright, but not blinding. There was a meditation worthy breeze floating gently passed them.

The lake was shimmering, the giant squid swimming serenely just beneath the surface. The lake was mirroring the pine smelling forest and the high mountains that encircled the grounds.

Nearer to Hagrid's cabin, there were thousands of people grouped. It was the memorial service in Harry's honour. It was also a celebration of the dark lord's defeat. It seemed that every wizard in England showed up at what was supposed to be a private ceremony.

Ron took in the perfect day. _Brilliant quidditch conditions._ He thought. He mentally punched himself. _Harry isn't here to enjoy the fruit of his work._

Harry had obviously been worried that his life would end. Arthur was notified that half of Harry's gold was left to the Weasley family. A part of it went to Lupin, another to Hermione, and smaller shares to the D.A.

The fact that Harry was dead was already too horrible to describe, and the 'accepting-the-death-' stage hadn't even come yet. The feeling of sadness was overwhelming for many. And Ron was angry. Not only for his best friends, that were smiling up at Dumbledore. How dare they? Those bastards! Ingrates! They were happy when the most decent person ever to exist had been sacrificed so they could live without the threat of Voldemort.

Hermione buried her face in Ron's shoulder. "How can we have been so stupid?" she whined.

"I dunno. It's my faut, not yours."

"Oh, Ron! Honestly! I'm his friend too! I should have shown it more!"

Ron secretly agreed, but didn't voice it. He was on a guilt trip of his own. Ginny cam pelting towards him.

"Gin?" Ron said.

"I think I've gone mad!" Ginny yelled at him. With Ron's quizzical look, she whispered in her brother's ear.

He raised an eyebrow, but before he could say anything, he felt a slight tickling sensation on his palm. He stared down at it in awe. The words _She's Not Lying_ appeared next to a lighting bolt sign. "Harry, you nutter. What did you go through to tell us this?" Ron shook his head.

"What!" Hermione screeched.

Ron was smiling sadly when he grabbed the arm of his only younger sibling and puled her up the steps of the temporary stage to Dumbledore. Dumbledore. Stopped speaking. He looked at Ron.

"Professor Dumbledore, Ginny's had a vision."

"You have no seer blood." Lupin pointed out.

"I don't think it was natural talent. It was a message. From Harry."

Dumbledore's fingers steepled. "Yes?"

"OH! Well, I saw him. And his parents. And extended family. And Sirius. I've never seen him so happy. Harry said not to go feeling guilty about him. It was his choice and he made that choice so we could be happy, and that he's always with us. Sirius says "Hey, ya' rascals." and to Lupin he says "Congrgrats. You're the last marauder left. I've just gotten word that Pettigrew is dead. And hell never looked less inviting."

Lupin laughed. The group let out a relieved sigh.

Ron, Ginny, and Hermione were laying on the bank of the lake, looking up at the night sky.

"He's gone. Isn't this weird?" Gin asked tiredly.

"I never really imagined life without him." Hermione admitted softly.

"Hey, at least he's happy. Couldn't ask for more." Ron pointed out.

"True." The girls agreed.

They sighed in unison. No one disturbed the peacefulness of the warm summer's night again. There was no need. They all missed harry dearly. Nothing could replace the piece of them he took with him. But as the breeze wafted over them, something settled in their hearts, reassuring them always. They knew that Harry would always be with them.

HAHAHAHA! I'VE DONE IT! Okay, call me crazy, but was that a sucky conclusion? Corny much? I CANT BELIEVE I FINISHED THIS! Soooo, why dontchya go on and review. Tell me what you think of my first concluded story!


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